For whose heavy, toxic nectar
One could die with endless yearning.
And the buds upon her bosom
Forward shot like restless billows
Till your head swam in a circle
Longing for a restful moment
On their dusky, silky velvet.
And her hair now closely braided
In three garlands round her forehead,
Like a frame about a picture;
Once released, would surely tumble
To her heels like waves of ocean.
But another transformation:—
At the gate she stood no longer,
But amidst the crowding masses
She was dancing in the market.
All around her, like an ocean
Colored caps and dusky features,
People shouting, noisy discourse
'twixt the tambourine and cymbal.
Like a lily twig, her body,
In her eyes a flame of lightning
Slender limbs in dancing, twirling
Like a leaf, when stirred by breezes.
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